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@imbadagain
i’m more afraid of attempting suicide and failing than suicide
The dangerous point is when you stop caring about getting better. You start to believe it’ll never happen, that this experience has damaged you beyond repair, and that it will be this, or worse, for the rest of your life. You have nothing to get better for because this has robbed everything from you: you talk to almost no one, maybe you’ve even dropped out of school or work or whatever, and you know that if you vanished today, no one would notice for at least a week, three days tops. You lie on the floor and you stare at the ceiling and you ask, why am I trying anymore? What still exists for me to care about?
Is this me? Is this my illness? Am I actually ill? Am I just a bad person? Is this just who I am? Am I just an attention seeker? Is this real? What’s going on? I’m so confused.
Craving abuse and hating yourself for it is a special kind of hell
its like all of a sudden it hits me
and oh my fucking god I want to kill myself so bad
“I think the saddest people always try their hardest to make people happy because they know what it’s like to feel absolutely worthless and they don’t want anyone else to feel like that.”
— Robin Williams (b. 21 July 1951)
If I fall asleep and don’t wake up, will you forgive me? If the blade causes a river of crimson to flow down my arm, will you understand why? and if I can’t seem to keep going anymore and my body won’t leave my bed, will you know that I tried?
please stop these thoughts